


Ireland

by PostApocolypticAlien



Category: The X-Files
Genre: A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight, F/M, Jewel oneshot, Titanic universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26083594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PostApocolypticAlien/pseuds/PostApocolypticAlien
Summary: A decision to go to Ireland lets the children meet their grandmother, Mulder meets Scully's other brother.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Ireland

**Author's Note:**

> While it's not completely necessary to have read A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight before reading this one, I would simply for context. The Jewel oneshot I promised you all. Part 2 will come soon.

Rustling wakes him up.

But he’s tired, desperately wanting to go back to sleep so he ignores it, as best he can, and rolls over intending to snuggle into the solid, warm body that’s beside him but instead what awaits him is the cold and empty sheets.

His eyes snap open.

In the darkness, Mulder can just make out the outline of a figure. Around the figure’s feet are various bags and trunks. They dance around them, kneeling on the floor to open one of the trunks and rummage through it.

Mulder smiles, blinking a few times to wake himself up, and shakes his head.

“What are you doing?”

Scully startles.

His eyes have adjusted to the darkness now and he can see her properly. Hair, haphazardly tied away from her face, pieces escaping from the band and falling in the way. She parts the curls like a curtain, allowing her to see him without hair blocking her view.

“Just making sure we have everything,” she tells him before continuing with her task.

“We have everything,” Mulder answers. He knows they have everything but she’s already looked through the luggage about ten times now.

“We’re up early,” she says in protest. “I dinna wanna have to scurry around for forgotten things.”

Mulder rolls onto his back and sighs. “Exactly, we’re up early,” he pats the empty space beside him- _her_ empty space. “Come back to bed.”

She stops her rummaging to eye the bed with sleepy want so he pats it some more tempting her.

And it works. Scully sighs and starts buckling up the trunks again. She heaves herself off the floor and climbs back into her space. As soon as she’s comfortable, Mulder’s arms wrap around her, pulling her into his chest.

“You’re cold,” he says, encasing her hands in his in an attempt to arm them up.

She isn’t really cold. They both know what real cold feels like and they have yet to come across anything in the last twenty years that compares to that.

“I’m worried we’ve left something behind,” Scully says.

“We haven’t,” Mulder says, kissing the back of her neck.

“I swear to god if Molly tries to bring half her wardrobe again like the last time.”

“I think she’s learnt her lesson.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:

The car hits every pothole it can find. Twice now Mulder’s knocked his funny-bone off the door, hit his head on the roof three times. The cab driver does nothing to avoid them.

Charlie stares grumpily at the floor, wedged in the middle seat between his mother and sister, still looking as green as when they were on the ship. When this trip was announced he hadn’t been happy about it. New York was his home, if they wanted to go on vacation why not just go to Coney Island?

“Because your grandmother doesn’t live in Coney Island,” Scully had told him at dinner.

Charlie had only _hmpted_ at that.

In an attempt to ease the tension Mulder had said, “It’s a chance to learn about your family history.”

But still Charlie hadn’t been convinced.

Molly, on the other hand, had been excited about the whole thing.

“Are there really fairies in Ireland?”

Mulder would say yes but he’s already been told off for egging on Molly’s fantasies.

“Not exactly,” Scully had answered, ever ingrained in the real world. “But ye might find some areas dedicated to them.”

Molly had smiled at that. “I want to see them,” she told them.

“We will,” said Mulder, nodding. “We’ll see everything.” He ignores Scully’s weary look.

“When can we see the fairies?” Molly’s question chimes through bringing Mulder back to the present and the unrelenting bumpy road. He finds his daughter’s question aimed towards the window, the screen down and her hand out of the window.

“Margaret, get your hand back in,” he hears Scully say, the words spoken with a sharpness. Molly does as she’s told almost immediately, giving Scully a sad, guilty look in the process.

“Fairies aren’t real, stupid,” says Charlie.

“They are in Ireland, Buttmunch!” argues Molly, her attention turned to her brother now.

Mulder immediately turns to the window to hide the smile he can’t stop from forming across his face.

“Molly!” Scully’s stern voice rings through again.

“He started it!”

Mulder finds himself unable to stop smiling, something about Charlie and Molly’s scrabbles have always reminded him of his and his sister’s and instead of bringing the sadness he was once so worried about it instead it just warms him.

“Will both of ye stop yer bleeding arguing before I launch you both out of the car?” Both children grow quiet then with just a small mutter of _You’re the stupid one_ from Molly.

He’s still smiling when he feels a kick against his shin. The grin drops as he looks towards the source of his pain.

“And you can quit your laughing too, _Mulder_.”

The car is silent for the rest of the trip. Before it ends, however, he’s hit his head for the fifth time.

They stop in the middle of the road, the driver cutting the engine and climbing out of the car without a word. The family follow in pursuit, the children climbing out first with Mulder helping Scully out.

The driver hands them their bags.

“That’ll be 62 pence.”

Mulder hands him the money and the driver looks at it with disgust. Mulder glances towards Scully who looks away with an uncomfortable look written across her face.

“I dinnae want your pity money,” says the driver, handing the money back. Mulder takes it and hands the man the correct amount. The driver takes it, no more words are exchanged, and he leaves.

“I was just helping him out,” Mulder declares.

“These people don’t want your help, Mulder,” says Scully. “If you’re to stay here, ye need to learn that.”

“Is that it?” Charlie cuts through. He’s looking out down the hill at a small farmhouse that sits alone in the vast field.

Thankful for the distraction, Mulder pats his son on the shoulder. “A lot different to a city, eh?” He’s smiling as he looks over to Scully but when he notices the sadness she doesn’t try to hide that smile fades.

Wanting to speak to her without little ears around he gently pulls Molly towards him.

“Why don’t you two have a race down the hill, yeah?” he suggests. “See who can get there first.”

Thankfully, the children perk up at that idea.

“I’m gonna win!” shouts Charlie as he immediately starts bolting down the hill.

“That’s not fair!” cries Molly but she’s running almost at the same time her brother did.

With the children away, Mulder takes Scully’s hand tugging on it to make her look at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“It’s getting smaller,” she answers and Mulder looks back at the farmland. He’s not entirely sure which part of it belongs to her family and which doesn’t but he has an unsettling feeling in his stomach.

“Come on,” he says, tugging on her hand again. “Charlie and Molly will be waiting.”

As they approach nearer to the gate, various animal noises make their way to their ears.

“You have animals?” Molly asks, complete awe across her face.

“You can see them later,” says Scully.

The front door opens just as the gate does. Mrs Scully exits and when she sees the four of them, a giant smile plasters itself across her face.

“Hello,” she greets them.

Scully makes her way over to her mother and the two women embrace tightly while Mulder hangs back with the other two near the gate.

He’s met Mrs Scully only once, just after the war and before Charlie was born. They visited, bringing news of her son’s passing, Scully not feeling it was appropriate to send as a letter. It hadn’t been a good few days.

Now he hoped they were here on happier times, to allow Mrs Scully a chance to meet her grandchildren, get to know them before they were too old and disinterested to visit nothing but greenery anymore.

“And you two must be Charlie and Molly,” the older woman says to the respective children as she continues smiling at them.

“Do you really have animals?” Molly asks. First fairies, now animals…

Mrs Scully chuckles. “Aye, we do,” she answers the child. “You can see them later but I’m pretty sure you’re going to be hungry after your trip.”

At that, Mulder’s stomach grumbles. He’d not eaten anything since breakfast hours ago and he’d only puked that overboard along with his son. Food sounded great.

Molly nods, running inside with Charlie and Scully following her. Mulder walks up towards the door, knowing he should greet Mrs Scully but feeling an unexplainable awkwardness preventing him from doing so. Mrs Scully had been nothing but nice and generous to him on his first visit, they had left on good terms. There was no reason he should be feeling this much apprehension towards her.

“How are you, Fox?”

She’s smiling at him, as she has been doing since she first laid eyes on him and it eases the uneasiness he feels in his stomach.

“I’m good, Mrs Scully. Thank you.”

“Maggie, Fox,” the woman says.

Mulder nods, he’ll still continue to call her Mrs Scully regardless.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

“We’re a wee bit tight on bedrooms, I’m afraid,” Mrs Scully says. They sit in the living room, food having been consumed. Charlie reads a book while Molly paints. For the first time they’re quiet and not arguing with each other.

“Dana and Melissa shared, Bill and Charlie shared. Perhaps you and Molly could share,” she says, looking towards Scully. “And Fox and Charlie in the other room?”

There’s a small surge of disappointment at the thought of being unable to sleep next to Scully. When he glances at Scully, he sees the same expression reflected in her face.

“The bairns are still at an age where they can share,-“

“I’m not sharing with him,” Molly instantly exclaims. “He smells!”

So much for quietness.

“And you’re just a baby who cries in the night,” Charlie retorts.

“I am not!”

“Are, too!”

“Not!”

“Are!”

“Not!”

Mulder looks apologetically towards Mrs Scully but the older woman is just smiling slightly, a wistful look on her face.

“Will you two shut up?” Scully asks, that stern voice coming back into play. “You’re sharing. End of.”

“I could sleep on the couch,” Mulder suggests. “Molly could share with Dana.”

Mrs Scully is already shaking her head at the notion.

“Charlie does not need his own room,” says Scully.

“Yes, I do.”

“For the week, you can share.”

“I really don’t mind, Mrs Scully,” he tells her. “Charlie’s twelve. He should have his own space.” He directs that at Scully.

“Bill and Charlie shared until Charlie was-“

She doesn’t finish her sentence, she has no need too. Bill and Charlie shared until Charlie was fifteen. Fifteen is also when his life ended.

A melancholy passes through the air. He can feel it, the women can feel it, no doubt the children can feel it as their chatter stops. They linger in silence for a time.

“If the couch is where you would like to sleep, Fox,” Mrs Scully finally speaks, breaking the silence. “Then you may.”

“Thank you, Mrs Scully.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

He finds himself unable to sleep.

The couch is small but he’s slept on smaller. He puts it down to the absence of Scully that’s preventing him from sleep.

The farmhouse creeks, he noticed that the last time he was here. Even when there’s nobody walking around it continues to do so.

Maybe it’s the ghosts of this house, he thinks. Charlie, Scully’s father, all the other generations of Scullys this house has seen. How many have sat in these very rooms, walked up and down the stairs, laughed, and cried around the kitchen table, watching as their land gets smaller with each generation that comes after them.

A small glow appears on the wall, flickering, a shadow of a woman following after. There’s no electricity in the farmhouse, everything is run on gas and when gas isn’t available, candles rid the darkness.

He watches the figure walk down the stairs before they disappear only to appear seconds later in the doorway.

What was he saying about ghosts again?

“You can’t sleep either?” Mulder asks Scully. She stands in the doorway, wrapped in a robe, holding a candle before her.

“No,” she answers placing the candle on the table in front of the couches. As she moves to sit, Mulder squishes over becoming flush with the back of the couch, allowing as much space to Scully as he possibly can.

“Molly snores,” she says and at that Mulder laughs. “Loudly.”

His fingers play with the stash on her robe. “She does,” he agrees. “I hear her sometimes.”

Scully smiles, slouching forward to rest her elbows on her thighs and hug her arms.

“Though you can’t hear her down here.”

She looks at him, frowning. “Are you suggesting I lay on the sofa with you?”

“You’re skinny enough, you can fit,” he sees her eye the space sceptically. “Just,” he adds.

He gets a hard punch in his bicep for that but he only chuckles, its contagion making Scully smile.

She looks away at something on the ceiling.

“I spoke to my mother today,” she informs him. “About…things.”

“What kind of things?”

“About Ireland things. About how she was, if she was coping on her own.”

He knows where this is going.

“Did you ask her about the farm?”

“They cut more land off her,” Scully says, she fidgets with her fingers, her freshly trimmed nails picking at the skin around her fingernails. “Sold it to somebody else. At this rate she’s gonna have nothing left.”

“I’m sorry.”

Scully smiles sadly at his apology. “She thinks the animals will go next. She doesn’t have the people to tend to them anymore.”

Mulder thinks about Mrs Scully up here on her own, tending to every animal on the farm, every crop, trying to keep them all healthy and alive. He imagines she finds a way to manage even if it’s just barely.

“There’s another thing she told me,” Scully says, pulling Mulder away from his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“My brother Bill is on his way back. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

With the way she’s looking at him something tells Mulder that that isn’t a good thing.

“Okay…?”

“He’s not a particular fan of the English.”

Right. His accent.

Mulder nods, understanding. “So what do you want me to do?” he asks.

“I want you to do nothing,” Scully tells him. She grabs his hand, interlocking their fingers. “You’re part of my family now, Mulder,” she says looking him in the eyes. “I’m not ashamed of that.”

He gives her hand a squeeze, sharing her sentiments to the end but he doubts this brother of hers will share the same thoughts.


End file.
